


It's along way to John O' Groats

by Hypatia_66



Series: An UNCLE Gazetteer [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: ABC Challenge, Cities, Community: section7mfu, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ ABC Affair II. Cities A-Z: prompt JIt's raining, the car has crashed and it's a long way





	It's along way to John O' Groats

They had been unbelievably lucky. Only Illya’s very quick reaction in bringing the car to a dramatic halt, had prevented their dramatic demise. The tree had fallen right across the hood, crushing the engine. Shaken, the two men climbed out into the wind and examined the mess. The car was a write-off and it was a very long way to their planned destination. Illya looked meaningfully down at Napoleon’s shoes.

“What?” said Napoleon.

“It’s going to be a long walk to the main road. Those are leather soles, are they not?”

“Finest Italian, yes.”

Illya smiled just a little spitefully. “Very nice in dry weather in Rome or New York. Here and now,” he looked up at the dark clouds gathering above them, “it’s going to rain, and the roadway is rough.” The first drops began to fall, and he added, “Mr Waverly isn’t going to like the expense claim.”

“I _was_ going to congratulate you on saving our lives, my friend.”

“You still can.”

Napoleon sniffed and said, “All right, how far is it?”

They collected their coats and started walking. “Not quite John O’ Groats to Land’s End, but in those shoes, it’ll feel like it,” said Illya.

“Oh, come on. I’ve walked miles – well the odd block – in these,” said Napoleon. “Anyway, how far _is_ that?”

“From the top to the bottom of the island of Great Britain? A bit less than a thousand miles.”

“Small place isn’t it?”

“Yes, less than the distance from Moscow to Murmansk,” said Illya with feeling, “though that felt twice as far.”

“New York to Orlando is more than that, too,” said Napoleon after some thought. “Orlando’s a nicer place to go than Murmansk, I daresay… What do people do in John O’ Groats?”

Illya had no idea. Very small village, tip of Scotland so no doubt there were violent storms, rocky cliffs, seabirds, fish; dark and cold all winter. “Make a quick exit, perhaps?”

“You haven’t even been there. It could be idyllic.”

They continued to walk through the rain but then heard extraordinary sounds from behind them and turned as an ancient farm truck sputtered and belched its way towards them. It stopped when they waved it down.

“That your car back there, fellers? Want a ride someplace?”

“John O’ Groats?” said Napoleon frivolously. Illya elbowed him aside and responded more helpfully to the farmer who agreed to take them to the nearest garage – not quite as far as the north of Scotland but more useful. They bundled their wet coats into the back and climbed in beside him. Napoleon wriggled one of his shoes off and looked at its sole. Illya glanced down and grinned. “He’s definitely not going to be pleased about replacing those.”


End file.
